Bio-electromagnetic Waves: A Hypothetical Form of the Soul
Research suggests that all living organisms—plants and animals alike—emit electromagnetic waves in the microwave spectrum at all times. These waves, called bio-electromagnetic waves, are incredibly weak, measuring only a millionth of the energy emitted by a flashlight bulb, making them nearly imperceptible to humans.
At one point, Dr. Xin Nuannuan found herself spiraling into self-doubt, convinced that her overworked state during pregnancy was causing hallucinations.
Beep, beep-beep, beep-beep…
The electromagnetic microwaves were captured by specialized equipment, converted into human-readable language, and displayed on the screen before her.
“I am not a hallucination. You may consider me a visitor from the future.”
“And then what?”
Reclining on the couch with cucumber slices on her face, Xin Nuannuan absentmindedly patted her slightly rounded belly. Her tone was laced with boredom as she continued, “Let me guess. Next, you’ll tell me that a catastrophic disaster is looming, Earth is on the brink of destruction, and you, the prophetic traveler from the future, have come to rally chosen heroes to save the world?”
The voice on the screen ignored her sarcasm and earnestly responded:
“Correct. You are quite perceptive. If you could assist me—”
“Alright, alright.” Xin Nuannuan made a cutting motion with her hand, her expression exasperated.
“Dear visitor from the future, can’t you see I’m just a weak, helpless, and pitiful pregnant woman? The doctor explicitly instructed me to get at least eight hours of sleep a day, or else there would be very serious consequences. So, saving the world? Sorry, but you’ll need to find someone else for that.”
“…”
For three consecutive days, no new messages appeared on the screen. If not for the undeniable presence of the historical logs, Xin Nuannuan would have dismissed the entire experience as a hallucination.
Then, during her midday nap on the third day, the “visitor” returned. It seemed to have been weighing her words over the last few days in silence.
“Understood. However, the person I am waiting for has not yet arrived, so I will continue to wait.”
It dawned on her that the entity had spent the past three days pondering her flippant remarks. For a fleeting moment, Xin Nuannuan found its sincerity endearing. Even the cliched “save the world” narrative began to feel oddly convincing.
Amused and a touch curious, Xin Nuannuan smiled. “Can you tell me who you’re waiting for? While my body needs rest, maybe I can help you look online.”
“There is no need.”
“Hm?”
“He is already here.”
Confused, Xin Nuannuan blinked and looked around, her gaze landing on an old man leisurely trimming branches in the garden. “Wow, I never would’ve guessed—Old Li was hiding such depths.”
“Not him. The one I’m waiting for hasn’t been born yet.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re waiting for a fetus? That’s… astonishing. But no one in the family is expecting a baby, are they? Why hasn’t anyone asked for maternity leave… hmm?”
Her brain stalled for a moment, the implications hitting her like a brick. Slowly, her gaze turned toward the screen in shock and disbelief.
“Is this some kind of joke?” she asked, her laughter edged with anger. “My child? Save the world? Whether you’re lying or not, this kind of thankless and troublesome task—whoever wants to do it can go ahead!”
“Why would you say that? Your son Wen Xin told me that you once submitted 135 reports to expose Dr. An Qi’s crimes, even at the cost of losing your job. You endured numerous kidnappings and assassination attempts, some of which brought you to the brink of death. Yet, even in your final moments, you never gave up on stopping him.”
“You must be someone full of compassion and a strong sense of justice…”
Smash!
Without a word, Xin Nuannuan grabbed the fruit plate from the table and shattered the screen.
That night, the mysterious entity returned, somehow redirecting its translated signals to her phone.
“I suspect you may not believe me. To prove my sincerity, I will provide an example of something that is about to happen.”
“In a few days, your eldest son will get into a fight with a classmate because the latter mocked his younger brother, saying he’d be as ugly as a red monkey.”
The mysterious voice was, unfortunately, honest and never wrong.
When she was summoned to the school to deal with the aftermath, hearing how her usually composed eldest son had punched his classmate hard enough to make his nose bleed, Xin Nuannuan was at a loss for words.
Young Wen Jinfeng stood with his chubby, dumpling-like face puffed up in indignation. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to cause trouble, but he went too far! How could my little brother ever look like a monkey? Even if he were a monkey, he’d be a hundred—no, a thousand times better-looking than that guy’s sister!”
Xin Nuannuan didn’t scold him immediately. Instead, she crouched down to meet his gaze and asked gently, “So, you hit him because he insulted your brother’s looks?”
“No.” Young Jinfeng turned his head stubbornly, frowning. “I saw him push a classmate down the stairs during lunch break, but the cameras didn’t catch it, and he denied it.”
Xin Nuannuan ruffled his hair. “But didn’t I tell you before? Violence is never the answer.”
“Maybe it’s wrong, but it works,” young Wen Jinfeng said stubbornly, looking up at Xin Nuannuan. “He’s shameless. No matter what the teacher asks, he just grins like nothing happened. Even being called to the principal’s office doesn’t faze him. But if I hit him this time, he won’t dare next time, right?”
Xin Nuannuan’s expression grew serious as she listened.
In truth, this wasn’t the first time she realized her child’s mindset was heading down a dangerous path.
She should have known better. She herself had become dispirited after all those “accidents,” so how much worse would it be for a child with an undeveloped sense of morality to face the darkness of the world so early? The psychological scars could be profound.
To prevent Wen Jinfeng from growing into someone antisocial, Xin Nuannuan approached her perpetually busy husband with her concerns.
After some discussion, the couple decided to send Wen Jinfeng to train under a retired general. The general was a man of impeccable character, and the hope was that he could instill the boy with proper values while also teaching him self-defense.
It wasn’t until two weeks later that the turmoil settled.
During that time, Xin Nuannuan had done considerable soul-searching. When she reconnected with the mysterious ghost, her ability to quickly absorb and process all the information it shared astonished even the entity itself.
Wen Jinfeng explained: “I don’t know if you remember, but when you were little, you told everyone you could see ghosts. It wasn’t just your imagination—ghosts do exist, and only you can see them.”
“When Dad and I found out, we didn’t answer your questions because we were afraid word might spread and draw First Base’s attention, putting you in danger.”
Wen Xin, feeling a sudden and indescribable tension, pressed a hand to his chest. His heartbeat quickened as he asked, “That ghost… could it be…?”
“No surprise, it was the Black Dragon,” Wen Jinfeng said, his gaze distant. “It claimed to be your future partner.”
He continued, “The Black Dragon told Mom that all of this began when Dr. An Qi’s archaeological team accidentally unearthed an ancient and mysterious ruin buried underground.”
“The ruin was actually a temple, containing what ancient civilizations referred to as the ‘Weapon of Calamity’—a genetic construct so terrifying that even after tens of thousands of years, the cells within its corpse retained activity. Its monstrous nature was undeniable.”
“Unable to destroy the creature or contain its ominous influence, the ancients constructed the temple to seal it deep underground.”
“The Black Dragon was chosen to serve as its guardian.”
Wen Xin was puzzled. “A guardian?”
“Exactly,” Jinfeng replied with a peculiar expression. “It was once a sentient being, but its body wasn’t resilient enough—or rather, no organic lifeform could withstand microbial decomposition indefinitely. Fortunately, its species had exceptional mental capabilities. To put it simply, its consciousness didn’t disperse upon death but persisted as bio-electromagnetic waves.”
However, surviving countless millennia wasn’t easy for the Black Dragon.
During the Little Ice Age, when extreme cold rendered even microbes inactive, the Black Dragon fell into a deep slumber due to magnetic field disruptions.
When it awoke, the ruin had been excavated by the archaeological team, and Pandora’s Box had been reopened.
The Black Dragon tried to stop An Qi from unleashing the weapon, but after eons, the world changed drastically. Modern intelligent beings lacked the high mental capacity of their predecessors and could no longer communicate via bio-electromagnetic signals.
Without communication, there was no way to stop An Qi.
The Black Dragon, unable to exist outside for long, needed a physical vessel. Yet, in the entire world, nobody could bear the weight of its immense spiritual power.
Left with no choice, it possessed the first batch of genetic experiments.
Thus, Miracle No. 1—the Tyrannosaurus—was born, something the First Base could never replicate.
Even with advancements in genetics, combining traits from a pterosaur and a Tyrannosaurus was an impossibility. Yet the Black Dragon’s immense mental strength forced it into reality.
This immense effort left the Black Dragon severely weakened, forcing it to remain in an egg-like shell, enduring a fragile infancy as it waited to regain its power.
But the process was painfully slow. By the time it was strong enough to act against An Qi, the high-risk viruses derived from genetic experiments had already spread globally, pushing life on Earth to the brink of collapse.
At that point, even carving An Qi into a thousand pieces would be futile. The devastation was irreversible.
The situation was both tragically hopeless and miraculously fortunate. Amidst this despair, the Black Dragon encountered Wen Xin.
A completely ordinary human, with no exceptional mental strength or great power, yet one who managed to unite mutants and human survivors—two groups naturally at odds—to fight against First Base.
For the first time in ages, the Black Dragon saw a glimmer of hope. Just as the young commander was on the verge of death, it condensed Wen Xin’s consciousness with its spiritual energy and eagerly proposed a partnership.
“Are you satisfied with the ending you’ve seen?”
“If you had the chance to change the future, would you seize it with all your might?”
Faced with a world consumed by war and ravaged by the virus, Wen Xin’s answer was undeniable.
Without hesitation, he spoke a single, resolute word: “Yes.”
In that moment, as the thought took root in Wen Xin’s heart, the Black Dragon felt a surge of exhilaration, as if hearing a heartbeat of pure hope.
The dragon’s excitement stemmed not only from Wen Xin’s decision but also from their state of mental connection. In this state, it could peer into Wen Xin’s every thought, including any greed or darkness hidden within.
This vigilance was born of necessity. The Black Dragon had once used the same method to eliminate numerous seemingly qualified candidates.
When it finally reached Wen Xin, the once-picky Black Dragon, weary of disappointment, told itself not to be overly strict. Even if Wen Xin harbored a trace of greed or desire to claim power for himself, it was something the dragon could tolerate.
But there was none.
The young man’s resolve was so pure, so unwavering, that even the Black Dragon couldn’t help but be captivated by him.
Thus, the Black Dragon and the human executor forged a binding contract—one that neither could break nor betray until their shared mission was fulfilled.
Wen Jinfeng stepped closer to Wen Xin and tapped the vial of reagent with his fingertip. “As for this, it is the result of your pact with the Black Dragon.”
“No. 1 possesses the ability to reverse time, but no matter which point it returns to, it always falls victim to the same constraints and repeats the same failures. That’s why it needs an ally.”
“That ally is you.”
“The genetic construct known as the ‘Weapon of Calamity’ was a biological weapon created by ancient civilizations. And like any weapon, measures were developed to control and tame it.”
“The savage and violent weapons were restrained using the silvery-white crystals. For the obedient and benevolent ones, the ancients nurtured their injuries and soothed their minds. The origin of the zombie virus lies in the weapon’s loss of control.”
“I suspect that No. 1’s and your intention back then was to have No. 1 reverse time and transfer its power to you at the earliest possible moment. That way, you could suppress the outbreak of the zombie virus and prevent the mutants from spiraling out of control at the start of the apocalypse.”
“But here’s the problem—no human body can bear such power!”
Wen Xin’s eyes widened, trembling as he processed the revelation. Wen Jinfeng’s grip on the reagent vial tightened, his own hands beginning to shake. Each word he spoke was drenched in pain:
“This power needs a vessel to convert and transition through before it can be safely absorbed by a normal person. If too much is injected at once, the body would burst like an overinflated balloon.”
“Mom foresaw this issue early on. Do you know what she did?! When she learned she would die two months after giving birth to you, she resolutely decided to make her body the transitional vessel for the power in your body!”
Wen Xin’s mind went blank. The truth was so brutal, so unimaginable, that he forgot how to breathe.
Wen Jinfeng pressed his hand hard against his forehead, his bloodshot eyes filled with anguish. “But she needed to save enough strength to give birth to you, and a few short months weren’t nearly enough time for the transition. This was a matter of utmost importance—we didn’t dare ask anyone for help, nor could we trust human nature in the face of such overwhelming power. So…”
Wen Xin’s voice, dry and raspy as sandpaper, mixed with a faint metallic tang, forced itself out of his throat. “You mean… you and Father…?”
“I didn’t. I was too young at the time,” Wen Jinfeng replied, his tone steeped in both sorrow and pride. “It was Father who took the baton from Mother.”
Clutching his chest to quell the unbearable ache, Wen Xin’s vision blurred.
In his mind, he seemed to see his mother—a woman he had never met—standing before him with an encouraging smile. He also saw his father’s tall, steadfast figure lifting him as a child, his calloused hands ruffling his hair and drawing peals of laughter from him.
It turned out his parents were such remarkable individuals. And yet, because of the childhood memories he had lost, he had misunderstood them for so many years.
Uh, I don’t understand